


From Russia, With Love

by phisen, TenchiKai



Series: From Russia, With Love [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9897341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phisen/pseuds/phisen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai
Summary: In this world of cruel truths, of homophobia and lies, bonds are broken and soulmates are found.





	1. "Trade Baby Blues, for Wide-Eyed Browns."

**Author's Note:**

> Before you read this, there’s a point. A point that’s very close to my heart, as a bisexual person living on our Earth. I’m sure you’ll catch it, without me even saying much. I hate that my idea channeled these characters. That it came out like this. But real life happens just like this. Please, enjoy. If you need them, a free box of tissues will come with each chapter. 
> 
> Thank you, [Phisen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/phisen/), for writing this with me. I consider her more than a co-author, but she poked and poked and wouldn't stop until I posted this myself.
> 
> I also created a little Spotify playlist for the story. [Here](https://open.spotify.com/user/1210030879/playlist/4dw3Tr0rlHKqrahbIUX9zZ) it is.

He saw him from across the room. Trying to not pay him any attention. It was impossible. His eyes were drawn to him, ocean blue to brown, like magnets. With fear, no, anticipation, he saw him come closer. What to do? Walk away? Stay? Endure the sensation eating him up from within? No. This wasn’t him. He had to resist.

 

It was impossible. He was too close. He shouldn’t be paying attention to the warm caresses his breath made against his cheek, but it became an obsession. He wanted the huffs of air to reach him, again and again.

 

“I’m sorry,” the dark-haired man excused himself, “but you’re Victor, right? Victor Nikiforov?”

 

He barely glanced at him. He felt the alcohol on his breath as he got closer, heard the impact it had when he spoke. He wasn’t the only one being drunk. He felt intoxicated as he heard his name roll off his lips. Fighting the urge to ask for yet another mouthful.

 

“Yes.” His response was curt. “And you are…?”

 

Of course, he knew. He’d seen him today, when he was waging a war that was impossible for him to win. He just wanted to hear him say it, his name, he wanted to remember this moment. Their first official introduction.

 

“I… I’m nobody really…”

 

“Oh, please! We all know who you are.” A familiar voice stood out from the background noise. “You came in last today, right? Idiot.”

 

“Who are you calling an idiot?” The dark-haired man sounded annoyed. Like he’d been interrupted when attempting doing something of utmost importance. “I challenge you!”

 

“You? Challenge me?”

 

“Yuri, knock it off.” He put his hand on the little blond’s shoulder, as if to calm him. He had gone too far already.

 

“Challenge! I challenge you do a dance battle. Right now!”

 

It became a heated discussion. A battle must have a winner, but what should the winner walk home with? People from all around came closer to make their opinions heard. Someone suggested ‘honor’. Someone else thought ‘memories for life’. And yet another added ‘the relief of it not circulating on social media’. The music started even without a solid answer, revving up the combatants.

 

Victor froze. Seeing his body move was poetry. Every step he made was done with grace, poise. The lines he made were sublime. He couldn’t believe that it was the same person who, minutes ago, approached him with an empty glass of champagne and the stench of alcohol on his breath. Or the same person that placed last. He had it in him. The true beauty of genuine artistic expression.

 

He enjoyed himself. He hated to admit it. Watching him made something resound within him. Something he wanted gone. But at the same time, he wanted more. More of it. Maybe more of him?

 

Seeing him loosen his tie made him reflexively lick his lips. He noticed that he was holding his breath in anticipation. Of what, exactly? Why was he watching this man, why were his eyes drawn to him as he started to undo his belt and got rid of it with a flourish? No. This was getting out of control. He was getting out of control. He needed to contain the feeling that was roaring inside him. The feeling threatening to burst out of him and consume him.

 

He started to take off his trousers, and… Yes. That was definitely a glance towards him. Their eyes met, just briefly, as he slid the trousers down his thighs. Then, they were gone, looking at something else.

 

This was a challenge, one he never thought he would participate in. It was obvious that he tried to entice him in that moment. Draw him in. Make him succumb to something that was forbidden. And yet, the feeling inside was getting stronger. Hungrier. Trying to coax him into giving in to the impulse that waxed and waned with every move he made, every look he shot his way.

 

As he started to unbutton his shirt, he just had to look away. He felt it now, it was palpable. He couldn’t take much more of this display, this mating dance. Applauds made him look. Made him crash right back into the reality he so desperately tried to escape.

 

Apparently, he’d won. He took a bow, pointed at his opponent and jubilantly turned around. Again, locking eyes with him.

 

As he started to come closer, a vibration started inside. He had to clench his fists, afraid that they would expose him to the world. Tell everyone what he was. What he really was. He took a deep breath, hoping that it would ground him.

 

And suddenly, he was close. Against him with no space in between them. Pushing into him, invading him. He was warm. Sweaty. His breathing made his abdomen expand, ravaging him further. Taking him prisoner.

 

He was thinking of getting away. Take some steps back before it was too late, but then, he was caught in his arms with no means of escaping. It wasn’t tender or loving, it was something else. Something that almost made him forget that he had a reputation to uphold, a lie to be told to the world. The feelings he’d been fighting against were close to winning.

 

And then, he spoke. His words acting like a siren’s call. “Victor, after this season ends, my family runs a hot spring resort, so please come.”

 

An invite. An imploration where he was asking him to join him. No. This was impossible. He was impossible. The whole situation was impossible.

 

And yet, he continued. As if the meaning of his words weren’t impossible. As if they were the most sensible words ever uttered by anyone, through the history of time.  “If I win this dance-off, you’ll become my coach, right? Be my coach, Victor!”

* * *

 He’d had enough. Seeing him interact with someone else in that way… No. He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand another second of that corporeal display. He… wanted it to stop. And continue. But not here.

 

“Sorry, Chris. Can’t you see that he’s had enough?”

 

“We’re just getting started! Don’t be such a spoil sport. You’ve seen him, right? He’s…” He leaned in, letting his lips touch his ear as he spoke. “ _Totally doable_.”

 

He scoffed. _That fucking twink_. “Honestly, though. Get your hands off him. He’s had enough and I’m taking him.” _I want to. I’m going to._ “I’m taking him to bed. Back to his room.”

 

He directed his attention to the scantily clad man writhing between Chris’ legs. Grabbed his arm. Pulled him away. With one arm across his back and the other on standby, he guided him.

 

“Hey. Yuuri? Your room number?”

 

His response was nothing but an incoherent slur.

 

“Hold on.” He quickly picked up his trousers that were still strewn on the floor as they crossed the room. He felt relieved to see the key card tumbling out of one of the pockets. He took it with him as they headed for the lift.

 

After pressing the button, he inspected the keycard. Trying to see where to go with this disheveled… beauty.  “Okay. Fourth floor, then.”

 

The lift dinged. He nodded at the people exiting before he coaxed him along. This is not what it seems.

 

“Fourth floor, huh.” He glanced at him. He was feeling heavy and loose against him. He was awake, but barely. His breaths became slower by the second. What if he’ll fall asleep? Then I’ll have to carry him, I guess.

 

The lift stopped with a beep. “Hey. Time to get out. You’re awake still, right?”

 

“Mmmph… Yeah.”

 

“Good. Let’s go.”

 

He had to be dragged along. Strangely, feeling his body against him still… felt the same. It brought on the same sensation of being invaded, even though he wasn’t doing anything with intent. He was just following his lead, like a rag doll. Like a plaything, with no possible ways of resisting.

 

He looked at him, standing outside the door to his room. He just had to brush away some of those tousled strands of hair that kept falling in front of his eyes. He tried collecting himself. Trying to keep a clear head as he slid the keycard and opened the door.

 

He was letting go. Ready to let his true nature take command. 

* * *

 

As soon as he took his hands off him, he remained still. He laid on the bed, and the only thing telling him that he was indeed alive was his stomach, rising and falling with every breath.

 

He sat down next to him. Trying to make sense of his inner struggle. He trembled as he touched him, on the small and exposed part of his stomach where his shirt had ridden up. It was like electricity. Magnetism. With every touch, he felt a jolt that told him to retract but at the same time, he was pulled in. Not being able to let go. As he let his palm rest on the naked patch of skin, he felt a tug inside. This was something else. Something he’d secretly been looking for but been afraid to find.

 

A muffled sound. He was trying to speak. “Come here.”

 

He couldn’t understand why, but he obliged. Letting his hand go from its newly found haven felt jarring, but it found another sanctuary as he rested his fingers on his jaw. Softly, barely touching. Not being sure if any of this was okay. He leaned in a little, not quite being able to hear him although his lips were moving.

 

“...pretty…”

 

_Oh?_

 

He was taken by surprise. He felt a hand on the back of his head, fingers digging in, pulling him closer. He didn’t put up a fight. He surrendered. As he felt his lips on his, he knew. He knew that he’d been allowed to come home. Find solace. Find shelter in a storm that had continued for way too long.

 

It was too short. He wanted more. Everything. Yes, everything that his mouth could ever offer.

 

"Your face is so pretty,” he paused for a moment, his head turned away. He bite his bottom lip, and his face became flushed. “This is better than when I used to...touch myself… thinking of you."

 

Hearing those words made him forget that mouth. The pent-up need took over, leaving him with nothing. Nothing that resembled coherence. He became a drunk man himself, just as drunk as the enticing creature next to him. He had enough. And yet, he wanted more. More to sate that drunken desire that clawed its way out of him, taking over him.

 

He touched him again. Let his hands caress his thighs. A moment of hesitation came over him, a voice of reason in his drunken haze. No. Reason had nothing to do with this. It didn’t belong here. It needed to be pushed away. Disregarded. At least for now.

 

His hands lingered on his hips. The only thing keeping him from feeling that electricity, that fabulous magnetism, was fabric. And just like that, the barrier was gone. He had access to him. All of him. And again, he was struck by lightning. Relishing the current that made him stick to him.

 

He undressed. Wished that they could share the same energy, the same glances like before. He wanted to feed off him, wanted him to sustain that bittersweet agony he’d felt when their eyes first met. But he couldn’t be reached.

 

The sound of the wrapper being torn made something stir within him. The sound was heavily conditioned. To a lot of different feelings, different kinds of associations, but this… this was new. This was… terrifying. And terrific. His breath shuddered. It felt slick against him as he put it on.

 

He looked down. Looked down at the being that had held him captive for an entire evening with glances and movements alone. As he got closer, he just knew. He had to have him. Take him. Backing out from this would create bigger ramifications than continuing, he needed to see this through.

 

As he sat down on the bed, he took his hand. He was warm to the touch, and yes, the electricity was still there. Made him tingle as it coursed through him. Without any hesitation, he pulled him close. Into his arms, on his lap. He heard a slow exhale, it was like a sigh against his shoulder.

 

“Yes?” His voice was but a whisper. A quivering one. He was hoping to get an answer. Yearning to get an answer.

 

“Yes... Victor…”

 

As he held him close, feeling his slender body against him, on him, something caught his eye. It was just a small glint, but it was enough to fill him with disgust. The dubious symbol of fidelity, trust and unity. He opened his mouth and removed it with his teeth, spat it out and watched as it rolled down on the floor.

 

He steadied himself. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. The moment where there would be no pretending, no sad fairy tales. Just a solemn instant of ultimate truth.

 

As he became enveloped, he knew. There was no turning back from this. With an uninhibited moan, he set things in motion. Got lost in the rhythm of his true nature.

 

_This is who I really am._


	2. "I put the/The "I" in Lie"

The uphill climb was over in an instant, leaving him with the aftermath of the delicious drop way too soon. It wasn’t what he’d expected it to be. At all. This deliverance was ending him.

 

He had to brace himself, put down a hand against the mattress to stay upright. The other was still stuck to him, resting convulsively against his back with no intentions of ever letting go. He had problems getting his breathing under control. Getting his entire being back in line.

 

He felt light-headed. As he eased out of him, with much contrition, he had to put him down. And he did. Lovingly, almost. With much care. He decided to rest beside him. At least for a little while.

 

Oh, how he wanted to stay. Tracing his fingers over his thighs, his stomach, his clavicles… The feeling that sparked within him told him that this was good. It wasn’t anything that could, or should, ever be judged. Thinking that, he felt a quiver. _That’s not the way it works. Not for me._

 

He had to look away. Collect himself a little before he could continue. Those slightly parted lips were so inviting. He let himself give in, leaned into him. “I wish…. I wish I could stay. Somehow, I really want to get to know you.” He whispered the words against his mouth, like it was a secret he had to keep from the outside world. “I really want to be your coach. I want to repay you for what you’ve taught me tonight.”

 

He tasted them, again. The sweet, lingering flavour of the champagne was still present. “But… That’s not the way it works.”

 

He pulled away. Watched him, as his stomach moved with every heavy breath. _Wonder if he… felt it? Appreciated it as much as I did?_

 

As he stood up to go into the bathroom, he noticed his wedding band. Putting it on would mean something he wasn’t ready to go through, not even in his mind. But he had to. He picked it up and put it on the basin as he cleaned himself up. Dreading to touch it. Dreading what it would do with him once it was back on.

 

But he put it back, on his right hand. Because that’s how it works.

* * *

 

He answered his phone with a groan.

 

“Finally! I must have called you seven times already! Where are you?”

 

 _Where am I?_ He sat up, but quickly decided to recline again. “In my room?” _God, my head…_

 

“We’re leaving in two hours, come down as soon as you’re ready.” His response didn’t sound very friendly.

 

“I will. Thanks, Celestino.” _He hung up?_

 

His mind started to find ways to function again. He felt sick. And… sore, for some reason. _What happened last night? I apparently managed to get back here, undress and get into bed so… it probably wasn’t too bad? But I… I really can’t remember a single thing._

 

Of course, he remembered. Something, at least. It dawned on him, how he’d been a complete and utter failure. As he recalled how he’d come in last place at his very first Grand Prix Final, he felt the tears burn behind his eyelids. _Of course, that’s how it must have played out last night. I drank my sorrows away. I am pathetic._

 

He sat up, puzzled by the fact that his shirt was still on and nothing else, and headed for the bathroom. He turned on the shower and waited for a while for the water to get warm before getting in.

 

The heat made him wince. His shoulders and back stung as they made contact with the hot cascade. _I must have been so drunk. Oh… that’s embarrassing! Did I fall over somewhere? But that doesn’t explain why my thighs hurt? Why my lower back hurts? Why my hips hurt? I really am pathetic, aren’t I?_

 

Getting dressed and packing up was a slow and gruesome process. His head was throbbing, and his stomach clenched. Perfectly in synch. But he persevered. He adjusted his glasses once he felt ready to leave, feeling a sadness take over him.

 

 _This marks the end of my career. I will never do this again._ He sighed as he closed the door behind him. No. This wasn’t the time for being sentimental. It wasn’t like he’d actually accomplished anything to feel bad about leaving behind. There was nothing there to miss, nothing there to chase after.

 

Or so he thought. He caught his eyes, briefly from afar, as he exited the lift and walked up to the front desk. Again, the tears threatened to cement his view of himself as he saw him. He wanted to get this over with, go back to Detroit and eventually, back to Japan. To Hasetsu. Leave this life behind him.

 

It was a smile he gave him, but not a happy one. Those blue eyes were full of something he didn’t quite understand, his smile seemed like a smile of pity.   _I really am pitiful. Thinking that I could ever stand on the same ice as him…_

 

As he checked himself out and met up with his coach, he decided to leave his adolescent dreams behind. Shove them somewhere inside where they would never get the opportunity to see the light of day.

* * *

 

He wanted to be able to feel something resembling happiness, he really did. But why wasn’t it possible? His fifth consecutive gold at the Grand Prix of figure skating, and all he felt was a void inside. Like an expanding darkness taking over him, with every step as he got closer. Closer to home.

 

He was stuck. Stuck in the memory of their final meeting. How his eyes shied away when they finally met his. How his body language was making too many excuses. How he didn’t react to his sad smile. ‘ _I’m never going to see you again, am I?’_

 

He walked out of Pulkovo airport, being caught in a flurry of snow. Somehow, the weather made him feel… better? The clawing wind and the snowflakes whipping at his face took away some of the restlessness that was building up, ever so slowly, on the inside.

 

He approached a taxi and got in. The driver recognized him, naturally. Telling him that he was indeed Russia’s pride and joy and how happy they were to have him bringing attention and publicity by being… his glorious self. He scoffed, on the inside. _You couldn’t be more wrong._ But he wore that mask of his, without faltering.

 

As the taxi approached its destination, he felt his insides churn. How would it ever be possible to get back to that? The life he so desperately wanted to cast aside? He took a deep breath. Maybe, it would be different this time. Coming back home.

 

He paid the fare and left the taxi with a smile that was devoid of anything that could resemble happiness. He had to stop himself from catching the taxi as it sped away. He wanted to escape this jarring charade. But he took a deep breath, and walked on. Like so many times before.

 

“I’m home.”

 

“Victor? Is that you?”

 

The sound of naked feet, running against the floor. A warm smile, a hot embrace, a scorching kiss.

 

“Welcome home, Victor! And congratulations on winning again!” The voice he knew so well squealed. Full of pride and joy.  “There really is no stopping you, is there? You know what, I made your favorite for dinner!”

 

“Thank you.” He smiled. Another smile, fueled by the emptiness he felt inside.

 

They walked side by side to the kitchen. He could tell that he’d been missed, feeling fluttering touches of longing hands all over him.

 

“Stop. Come here.”

 

He was pulled close, their mouths met yet again. This time, deeper. His hands weren’t his own, as they were guided by her to her breasts.

 

He escaped. His mind instantly brought him somewhere else. To a hotel room across the country, where the tentative caress of a stomach became his undoing.

 

“I want you all over me tonight.”

 

He was pulled back to the here and now, looking into pools of emerald green instead of calming brown. He felt a tug inside. No, this wasn’t right. This feeling was different. Wrong.

 

He touched her hair, pushed it back a little as it pooled down across her shoulders. And the phrases came naturally, like they always did. As if on cue. Honed to perfection with the intent of keeping his darkest secret.

 

“Oh? That can be arranged… You look wonderful today, Irena. I might have you instead of dinner.”

 

“Humor me, silly. Eat, then play. Okay?”

 

He ended up doing all of those things. Like so many times before. One thing was different this time, though. How he ended up thinking of another union, still fresh in his memory.

* * *

 

Graduation was yesterday, and today was the last full day the dorms would be open to them. Tomorrow, he’d be taking a flight back home. Home. The place he hadn’t been in five years. It seems like things just keep ending. _When will something… start?_

 

He sighed, opening his suitcase. He’d been avoiding this. Avoiding packing, avoiding the reality of leaving. Avoiding the pain of saying good bye. He could hear his roommate of five years walk into the room. As he turned to face him, he saw him smiling, as always. But there was something different there today. It didn’t reach his eyes.

 

“Why do you always look so sad these days?” Phichit asked his very best friend. There was something in his voice, something that made him understand why his eyes never became engaged. Of course, he wasn’t ready for this, either. Not completely.

 

Another sigh. “Because I’m leaving you?”

 

Phichit found his way to the bottom bunk bed which he called home for three years. Resting there, he looked up at Yuuri. “It’s like you keep telling me. We have Skype. You’ll get tired of me, I’ll be talking to you so often.”

 

Yuuri was thankful for his friend trying to console him, but the fact he was leaving him was just an item on the list of things that were depressing him. He quietly began to pack some t-shirts from the shared closet while Phichit fiddled with his phone. He was done packing, had been done for a week while he procrastinated.

 

They stayed like that for awhile, quiet in their goodbye while Yuuri finished up and prepared for the next day. The long plane ride felt daunting, but he was looking forward to coming home. For the first time in five years.

* * *

 

Everyday life had caught up with him again. The never-ending hamster wheel. He put on his shoes and coat, preparing to head off. Practise, yet again. Another thing that played a big part in his hamster wheel-life. The new season was about to start, accompanied by everything that comes with it.

 

“Are you going already?” Her voice was a purr against his cheek.

 

“Yes. And I’m going to be late if you keep doing this.” Her kisses, touches and batting eyes evoked nothing within him. But he played along. Like always.

 

“Victor, before you go,” she clasped her hands behind his neck, “there’s something I want you to know.”

 

He adjusted her blonde hair, pulled it back from her face. “Oh? Do tell?”

 

He saw her look away. As if she was pondering over something. Tasting words in her mouth to make them sound just right once uttered.

 

“You know… You bless me with so much every day. I’m so lucky to be able to spend my days, my life with you.”

 

He could see tears in her eyes. He didn’t like where this was going. But he kept his calm. Waited her out.

 

“And… since you’ve blessed me with so much, now it’s finally my turn to do the same. Victor… we’re having a baby.”

 

He felt paralyzed. It was as if those words had sucked out all the air of the room. It became impossible to breathe. His mind started to race, trying desperately to understand what had been said.

 

“Baby?” It was all he could think of in that moment. Just a repetition, without any feeling or soul. Nothing that could give away what was happening on the inside.

 

_What does this mean? Parents? We’re going to be parents? No. No, it can’t be. It’ll be devastating!_

 

“Victor? Hey, aren’t you happy?”

 

“Happy? I… uh…” _Happy? God… what if… What if…_

 

Her hand touched his face. “Listen. Victor, hey… I know for a fact that you’ll be the best father in the world. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

 

She kissed him. The feeling of having her invade him, his lips and mouth like that put something else entirely in motion. As he tried to catch one of those frantic thoughts that were racing, racing like a herd of wild horses, he felt it stop. That one thought he never wanted to face.

 

_What if he’ll be just like me?_

 

He could feel the prickle. The annoying sensation of something wanting to get out. As he felt his eyes well up with tears, he wanted to push her aside. Take care of the little hope that he felt dying inside. He wanted to nurture it, bring it back to life. But he decided, then and there that it was hopeless. He was going to let that side of him go, let it expire on its own accord.

 

_I’ll never think of that night and those brown eyes ever again._

* * *

 

“Honey?” Her touch against his shoulder woke him up. Gently rocking him back and forth.

 

“Mmhh…”

 

“Darling, sorry. You just have to see this.” She held her mobile phone up to his face. He relieved her of it, yawning as he did.

 

“What’s this then? I really hope it’s not one of those cat-things again.” _Waking me up like that… This better be worth my while._

 

“Oh, you’ll see. Seems like you have very talented fans out there in the world. You watch, I’m going to the bathroom.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. He caught a glance of her slightly protruding belly as she got out of bed. _She started to show almost immediately._

 

He waited until he heard her lock the bathroom door before he pressed play.

 

“Buffering? Of course.” He yawned again. Still not worth waiting for, as far as he was concerned.

 

He recognized the music. _My Eros-routine? This will be good._ He squinted a little, not being able to see the skater’s face due to bad video quality. When the connection finally became stable and the video cleared up, he felt it. The same feeling he’d felt so many months before when he’d saw this same skater, who had impressed him with sublime lines and grace beyond his comprehension. Who now impressed him again, with raw lust and a hunger. A hunger he would have loved to be consumed by when he had him against himself.

 

_Why did he fall short, last season? With these moves he… I know I could coach him. Unlock that potential I can see him holding back. I… want to. But I can’t! Not now!_

 

It wasn’t a declaration of love. It was something else, something more primal. Something he’d been trying to convey through his skating ever since that night, something he now received in return. It made his heart skip several beats at once as it dawned on him that their night together now was reciprocated. Somehow.

 

However, it also dawned on him that this new mating dance had been performed way too late.

 

As video ended, he put the phone on Irena’s pillow, pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes, trying to keep himself and his emotions in check. He buried himself back into the sheets. _This is not how it works. Not for me._


	3. "No thank you/Is how it shoulda gone/I should stay strong/But I'm weak"

It’s been months since they last saw each other in the flesh, but Phichit and Yuuri still talked nearly every day, just as they had promised one another. Yuuri felt good about Phichit still skating, and was over the moon when he heard that he was aiming for the Grand Prix. Somewhere deep inside, he missed that life.

 

“So, Phichit. What competitions have you been assigned to?”

 

“You’re not going to believe this,” Phichit laughed, “but can you imagine that I’m in the NHK? I’m coming to Japan, Yuuri!”

 

Yuuri felt exhilarated. “Really? I can’t believe this! Where are you skating? I’m coming to support you, just say the word!”

 

“It’s in Sapporo this time around. Isn’t that awfully far from Hasetsu, though?”

 

“Don’t be stupid, of course I’ll come!”

 

Yuuri booked his flight and tickets for the competition that same evening. Excited to see his friend skate. Excited to get a taste of the life he had left behind, once more. Not knowing that the choices he made that day would have consequences beyond his wildest imagination.

* * *

 

As Phichit headed off to the Kiss and Cry, Yuuri smiled. Seeing his friend enjoy himself so immensely… that was something he had a hard time doing when he had competed. More often than not, his nerves got the best of him, making his confidence waver. _I know where all that got me last year…_

 

He gathered his things and stood up, ready to see if he could catch Phichit before he left the Kiss and Cry. But something made him stop. Find his seat again. Left him breathless.

 

The sounds of the guitar faded, and the song gave a breath just before the sound of string instruments began. And there he was. The Living Legend. Seeing him move across the ice, it reminded him of why he started to skate. What fueled him, at least before.

 

_His skating… it’s otherworldly. Imagine that I tried to copy him. Copy all this._

 

He felt his heart beat a little faster. With every spin, elongated lines, it picked up pace. _This is Eros. Sexual love. Endless pleasure. It gives, again and again._

 

He knew this routine well. The upright spin, the rejection of the damsel, and the end pose. Seeing him push the fawning imaginary woman away, and ending his program with that smoldering caress of his own body made him gasp. But not because of the flawless artistry.

 

He was looking at him.

* * *

 

His chest was heaving. Seeing him, right in front of him, immediately had that effect. He wasn’t sure for how long he’d been mesmerized, standing like frozen in time, but he snapped out of it. Turned around to face the audience.

 

He took a bow, moved a quarter of a turn and did the same. As he turned to where the bewitching started, he instantly locked eyes with him again. Resting upon his brown with his blue before bowing with a flourish.

 

“For you,” he mouthed. Not being sure if it reached him at all.

* * *

 

“So, where to?”

 

“I don’t know…” Phichit fiddled with his phone, not really participating in the conversation.

 

“Hey, come on. We must go somewhere! You did great today!”

 

“Oh, stop it. I came in fourth.”

 

“But, Phichit… Fourth with those beasts competing against you? I don’t think that I would have even skated, knowing that they were my competitors.”

 

“Oh, Yuuri… I’ve missed you.” Phichit put his arm around his shoulder as he looked around. “Hey, what about this place? This’ll work, right?”

 

“Oh, sure. Let’s.”

 

They entered the quaint little ramen shop, looking around to get a feel of the place.

 

“Hey,” Phichit said while cocking his head to the side, “isn’t that Christophe? He’s alone, shall we join him?”

 

Yuuri felt flustered. He had a hard time being around that outspoken and extroverted Swiss. Just to humor Phichit, he agreed. “Sure, let’s do that.”

 

They were welcomed by that awkward way of greeting people that some Europeans had as a custom. Those air kisses were so invading, Yuuri thought.

 

“Hello, boys. Sit.”

 

“Thank you,” Yuuri politely responded. “So… you’re alone?”

 

“Not anymore.” He winked.

 

“Anyway, Chris. Great job today. Coming second must be giving you a great feeling,” Phichit said.

 

Christophe chuckled. “In many more ways than one, believe me.”

 

The joke passed them by, to Christophe’s disappointment.

 

“Hey, Yuuri… It’s quite sad that you’re not in this anymore. I miss competing against you.”

 

“You… do?”

 

“To be honest, the fun with you usually comes afterwards. You’re crazy when you’re drunk. So… easily convinced.”

 

Yuuri felt his cheeks ignite instantly. _That banquet… Please help me._ _I will never drink again._ He cleared his throat. “Will… will you excuse me for a moment, please?”

 

“Hey, Yuuri! I was just joking. Sit! If you don’t stay, there won’t be anyone carrying you to bed tonight you know?”

 

Yuuri was already on his feet, walking towards the counter. Feeling mortified at having to remember his shortcomings, on and off the ice. It was probably for the best that he remembered so little from that night, anyway.

 

“Wh… what? Er… No, Chris, it’s okay... I was going to check in early anyway.” He turned around and looked at Christophe’s smirking face. “I want to be with Phichit when he gets up early for the free skate tomorrow anyways, so...”

 

“You’re leaving, Yuuri?” Phichit sounded a bit disappointed, and concerned at the same time.

 

“I… I’ll see you at the hotel, okay?”

 

He nodded apologetically and headed for the door.

 

He thought that his eyes were playing tricks on him, but… No. It was impossible. He hurried to the door, grabbed the handle as he felt the door close and stumbled outside.

 

Yes. It was him. That back. That silver hair. He’d recognise them anywhere.

 

“Vi… Victor?” His voice made him turn around. It was him. It really was. But why did he look so angry?

 

“Don’t follow me.” His voice was abrasive, his body tense.

 

Yuuri didn’t understand. He, who always was so open, approachable… Was it all a front? _Is this the real Victor?_ Suddenly, he felt provoked. By the sound of his voice. How he was showing him how little he wanted to do with him.

 

“What… What have I ever done to you?!” He gasped a little as the words rolled off his tongue. He couldn’t believe he just said that. To him.

 

Seeing him walking up to him, with strides that made him feel slightly intimidated, made him curse himself. _I’m sorry!_

 

As his fingers gripped his chin, digging into his skin, he looked away. His fingers hurt him a little, but he was afraid that his words would hurt even more. He was forced to look at him. He coaxed him into it by adjusting his head time and time again, forcing him to meet those blue eyes of his.

 

The eyes, they weren’t angry. Yuuri felt his breathing stop, although his heart was racing. The eyes, they were… distraught? But why?

 

“You…”

 

Yuuri could do nothing but stare.

 

“You… No, you didn’t do anything to me.” His breathing was getting… ragged?

 

_What is this? What is this about?_

 

“It’s just… You make me combust. You’re ending me, just standing here. Calling my name. I don’t want you any closer, because I…”

 

_What. Is. This. About? He’s coming closer?_

 

“I don’t trust myself with you.”

 

They looked at each other. Yuuri felt him vibrate. His hand, firmly gripping his cheek. Those blue eyes of his, they were too.

 

And, just like that, he felt his lips against his own. Not understanding the situation. Not being sure if he wanted to. He felt the grip around his cheek getting softer, turning into something resembling a touch. Then a caress. Then… an embrace?

 

His tongue invaded his mouth. All he could do was to stand there, with his eyes open. Watch as he was being held hostage. No. He felt something inside himself too. It was just a little click at first, then it escalated into a boom. He wasn’t a hostage. He was an accomplice. And with that, he reciprocated. Put his hands in his hair, feeling the soft silver strands twist around his fingers.

 

He suddenly wanted more. Something within him spurred him along, telling him to take what he’d been yearning for ever since he was a boy. And he did. He felt him. He tasted him. And it dawned on him that he wanted him. Needed him.

 

But this revelation was too late.

* * *

 

He couldn’t help himself. He had to let it out, moan into that mouth of his in between the short, gasping breaths. _Yes. Yes. This is the feeling I’ve been chasing for all my life. I want this. I need this. It took me twenty years to find it, but now… I know._

 

The taste of him was amazing. The feeling of him against him, pulling him closer, apparently needing him in the same way made him voracious. He wanted more. Nothing else seemed to matter.

 

He felt that electricity. That magnetism. Those jolts pushing him away, the invisible force pulling him back. Back to his mouth.

 

As the exhilaration waned, turned into something slow and loving instead, they managed to look at each other. Share a smile. A small laugh. He traced a finger along his lower lip, barely understanding that they had been against his just a second ago.

 

Something broke the spell. A small click. Again and again. The clicks suddenly sounded like a swarm. He glanced to his side, trying to locate the origin of the sound. Not understanding that he was looking straight into something that would tear it open. His heavily guarded box of secrets.


	4. "Is this more than you bargained for yet?"

The news circulated for a couple of days, then it disappeared. ‘Russian figure skating champion found kissing local skater’.

 

He’d been in hiding. Not turning on his phone. Not checking his e-mail. Not daring to look at any SNS-sites. Skulking the halls of his home in fear of meeting his family. It was like it became a new reality, a new goal in life to simply vanish off the face of the earth.

 

Humiliation was one thing. That was something he was familiar with. But the guilt, that was new. The constant replay of their meeting, how it made him feel. He was torn between longing for the moment that had passed and feeling at fault for the consequences it had brought with it.

 

His parents’ words were echoing in his head. ‘ _We’ve known for years, Yuuri, but he’s a married man! Have you no shame?’_ Apparently not, he thought to himself. Not being able to face them, due to their lecture and the guilt that followed, made him distraught.

 

He needed a diversion. Something that could take his mind off it all, especially the feeling of being like a ghost in his own home. He decided to turn on his phone for the first time in days, and check some news sites. Still staying away from the social media. Still having the telephone set to mute.

 

Nothing seemed to have happened in the world. Nothing of importance anyway. He decided to look at some skating sites, just to see if the world had continued to spin without him being an active part of it.

 

Initially, it seemed like it had. But then… that link just had to be pressed. ‘Baby-bliss for Russian champion.’

 

Of course, it stopped spinning. Just like that.

 

_We’re happy to announce that the five time consecutive world champion, Victor Nikiforov, is expecting a child together with his wife of three years. The couple announced their pregnancy this Wednesday according to Russian media. Model and animal rights advocate, Irena Nikiforova (25), has been seen shopping for baby clothes in St. Petersburg. We congratulate the happy couple!_

 

He let out a sob. Suddenly, the consequences had become more costly. More dire. And it was all because of him and his indiscretion. Because of him not saying no. Because of him not being in control of himself. Because of him just… letting it happen.

 

The guilt he felt before magnified. Consumed him. Thoughts of him being a catalyst for something bigger kept entering his mind. _What if they’ll break up? They’re having a baby! What if I’m the reason that this child won’t have access to both of its parents? What have I done?_

 

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Sadly thinking that he brought this all upon himself and that he had no reason to feel sorry.

* * *

 

It had been going on for hours. Yes, hours, really. At the same intensity. But it was only one-sided.

 

He understood why she felt this way. He really did. And he hated himself for it. For not containing what he had inside. For constantly looking for that feeling, that feeling that momentarily set him free.

 

And now, he’d done it again, and he had to pay the price.

 

“I can’t believe you, Victor! I can’t believe you! How could you?!” Her makeup was fading, disappearing in streaks across her face.

 

He still hadn’t looked at her. Not properly. He’d just silently listened to her, to her anguish, her hatred. Internalised every single thing she said, made it all to truth inside him.

 

“Why won’t you say anything? You just sit there, not saying a fucking thing even though you’re the one who fucked up?!”

 

She had been repeating herself for quite some time now. Trying to make him say something, trying to make him react. But telling him that he’d fucked up, well… It didn’t really matter. He knew this already.

 

He looked at his hands. His eyes ended up resting on his wedding ring. _The one I took off and… spat out._ It felt like a joke. He knew it was. No, that he was the most pathetic excuse of a man that ever walked the earth. But, he felt an obligation to her. To let her do this. To let her get it out of her system. To let her purge.

 

She sniffed. He could hear her shivering inhales and exhales as she stood over him. He’d been sitting down since she first opened her mouth, and made no effort to do anything else.

 

“You… you fucking disgust me!”

 

_Oh. I… do, too._

 

“So, Victor? Tell me. For how long has this been going on?!”

 

_All my life. But not… until now._

 

“I really need to you say something! Why are you sitting there like a fucking idiot?!”

 

He sighed. This was a new turn in this monologue.

 

She stepped up to him, grabbed him by his hair. Forced him to look at her. He just followed her lead. Like always. Not resisting her. Not making her think that he wanted something else.

 

He looked at her. Saw how her tears and anger had disfigured her face. It looked nothing like her. And he had to carry that on his conscience too. Her green eyes were puffy, and that animalistic expression made her look like a she-wolf. Ready to tear him to pieces at a given signal. Her perfume was making his stomach churn.

 

“I’m not joking, Victor. That guy, have you met him before? The one you kissed?!”

 

_Please, don’t drag him into this. He did nothing wrong._

 

“HAVE YOU MET HIM BEFORE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT?!”

 

“Yes. Yes, I have. Once.” _Why? Why did you involve him?_

 

“You’ve met him before?!” She released his hair, backed away. It looked like she’d been slapped across the face. Her eyes were wide, her mouth was slightly open. One hand was tangled into her hair. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

 

He looked at her. Not being able to say anything else.

 

“And when you met him, when you met him before… What did you do? What did you do then, Victor?! Huh?!”

 

_Everything._

 

It became still. Strange.

 

When she resumed, her voice was low. It felt like they were having a normal conversation. Not one fired up by emotions too intense to handle. “Victor. I’m just going to ask you this once. And when I’ve asked you this, I really need you to answer me. Okay? Truthfully.”

 

He pulled his fingers through his hair. A defiant gesture, he realised that, but… he knew where this was going. He felt it inside.

 

“Did you fuck that guy? Have you ever been with him like you’ve been with me?”

 

He couldn’t sit down anymore. Her question made something within him escape. Break free and claim something that was missing.

 

“Yes. I have. Last year.”

 

Disbelief. That was probably the best word to describe the look on her face. He could see his words work their way through her. They made all kinds of subtle differences to her. Her body, her eyes, her mouth… And when they finally hit home, found their way into the part within her that could register what he’d just said, she unfurled.

 

He was quick to guard himself with his arms as she started to tear down whatever she could find from the bookcase behind her.

 

“Am I just a fucking joke to you?! You can take this,” she threw a framed photograph, “and this! And this! And just fuck off, you fucking queer!”

 

_Our wedding photo. Of course._

 

He walked up to her, trying to shield himself from her clawing hands and furious blows. He grabbed her, held her by her wrists.

 

“Irena, calm down.”

 

She fought him. Fought him like he was a predator after prey. She had no intentions of going down, letting him end her. She managed to get one hand free, and slapped him across the face.

 

It stung, but he decided to let her have it. Maybe that would calm her down.

 

“You disgust me!” Her voice was a lament, a desperate cry. “He disgusts me too! Who the fuck would do such a thing? He’s a fucking faggot, just like you!”

 

Something snapped inside of him. He suddenly felt like fighting. Fighting her, her words, and her thoughts. But not because he needed to protect himself. He needed to protect someone else.

 

“You know what?” His voice was steady. Totally leveled. “I fucked him. And that moment I spent with him was worth so much more than a whole lifetime with you.”

 

They locked eyes. Her luminous green orbs were vibrating as they rested on this cerulean blue. She went slack in his hands, no longer fighting. Defeated.

 

“You need to leave. Right now. And don’t come back.” 

  
He released her, eventually. Before he left, he turned to give her one last glance. He felt sorry. Sorry for a lot of things, but not for letting himself finally do what he’d been longing to do for so long. He connected with himself. Who he really was.


	5. "A new day is coming, and I am finally free"

It was subtle at first, the changes around him. Cold looks, people distancing themselves from him. The obvious fall of The Living Legend. It’s amazing how quickly gold medals don’t seem to matter anymore.

 

Not before long, it escalated. Became more serious. Frightening. It started small too, with hateful posts and mentions online. Then, it became invasive. Phone calls, letters delivered to his door with colourful descriptions of him and what would happen to him if he ever came across them. He started to take other routes to get home, just to be safe.

 

Strange, how different his life had become. Ever since that day. That day when they met. That day when he shrugged off his costume and revealed himself. True, it was a reveal that was forced upon him, but it was a reveal nonetheless.

 

He’d gotten harsh words from the people he loved and respected too. Not for him being who he is, but for acting carelessly. For hurting others. He knew that they were right, and that was probably what hurt him the most.

 

It never occurred to him to pay attention to the people he passed on his way back from practise. Why should he? It was early in the afternoon, a lot of people were walking the streets. He never thought the hatred would consume people in that way. Consume them so that they felt obliged to show him their true nature. But that’s exactly what happened when he tried to defend himself.

* * *

 

“You got lucky.” The physician looked at him with eyes he couldn’t read. _Maybe he was one of them too?_ “Nothing’s broken but… well, you’ll be bruised. We taped that little gash for you.” He gently poked his cheekbone.

 

He nodded. The feeling of paranoia had been building up, and now, he felt afraid. Everyone was looking at him. Of that, he was sure. He knew that he couldn’t run away. Not yet. Of all the things that had changed, the fact that he was going to be a father wasn’t one of them. He’d made a number of gentle attempts to contact Irena, at least to tell her that he’d be there for the child, but had never gotten a response.

 

With these fresh wounds, both physical and mental, he’d never felt more alone. And now, even the Grand Prix Final was out of his reach, due to his carelessness.

 

After having a heated discussion over the phone with his coach, being both reprimanded and pitied, he went to bed. Somehow hoping that it would make the flurry of emotions settle down, make him collect himself and set new goals.

 

He flipped through a magazine that, strangely enough, hadn’t been torn or ripped to bits. It happened way too often with his mail these days, seeing something pristine was quite the surprise. Ironically, it was a skating magazine that had made it in one piece.

 

‘ _Life after retirement: Five skaters tell all.’_

 

Somehow, that headline caught his eye. _For all I know, I might be joining them soon._ He flipped through the pages, looking more at the photographs than reading the actual interviews. Again, it felt like the ground had disappeared. That his heart was skipping beats.

 

_Japanese skater Yuuri Katsuki (23), is the last skater to tell his story. Although he retired last season, he still made headlines during this year’s NHK Trophy, where he was photographed entwined with one of the top names of figure skating._

_-Yuuri, we need to ask you. This question is probably one everyone’s minds. What do you think of the headlines involving you this year?_

_-I’m just sorry that anyone got hurt due to my carelessness. I really am._

_His response is heartfelt, that’s for sure._

_-So, Yuuri. What have you been up to since you officially retired?_

_-My parents own a hot spring resort, so I’ve been keeping myself busy helping them._

_-Do you still skate?_

_-On occasion. I go in my spare time. I find it calming to skate to other people’s routines, trying to get a feel of them. I like to try and understand what the skater thought and felt when he/she were performing it._

_-Do you have any advice for skaters thinking of putting away their skates for good?_

_-Well… I think it all comes down to motivation. If you don’t have any motivation, it’s hard to accomplish anything in this sport. So, advice, you said? Find that motivation inside you and never let it go._

_-And finally, do you have any aspirations of coming back to the ice?_

_-I don’t think I will be competing ever again, to tell you the truth, but coaching sounds like a possibility. Not now, but maybe down the road._

 

He reread the small snippet, again and again. He couldn’t believe what he was reading. Barely understanding the letters that were forming the words. _He thinks that he’s hurt… me? He couldn’t be more wrong!_

 

He’d been accused of being whimsical. Being full of surprises. But the one he surprised the most when he made his decision, looking at the picture of someone who he considered to be his liberator, was probably himself.

* * *

 

“Yuuri? Hey, wake up!”

 

The voice of his sister was slowly invading his mind. Calling him to consciousness, without any consideration that it was his day off.

 

“Mari, why? Honestly…,” he groaned.

 

“You have a visitor.” There was an edge to her voice that he recognized. She was doing the same thing she usually did, leaning against the door pulling out a smoke.

 

“Eh? What time is it?” _Too early for visitors, anyway. Too early for the smell of cigarettes. This is probably some kind of prank or something._

 

“Does it matter? Get out of bed and put your clothes on. He’s in the onsen. Hurry up, I can’t understand a word he says. It’s awkward.”

 

He grudgingly got out of bed and got dressed. He felt annoyed. It _was_ his day off, after all. He said hello to his parents who were busy preparing breakfast for the inn’s patrons before he made the turn to enter the shower area. He passed through it and went outside.

 

He’d felt this before. This sensation of being struck down by lightning. Suddenly, he was wide awake.

 

“Yuuri…” Ocean blue met brown. Again. And that voice invaded his ears. Again.

 

He blinked. Reality and self-consciousness hitting him all at once. How was it possible that he was here?

 

“Please, no. No. Don’t get up, I…” _The onsen. Right. Of course wasn’t dressed._  His words had the intended effect. “Please. I’ll be waiting outside. Once you get dressed we… we can talk.”

 

He hurried back inside, past the shower area, clutching his chest. He found the nearest wall to steady himself against. The rhythm in his chest wouldn’t slow, setting its own pace for him to follow. He was sure his face was flushed, was sure his emotions were obvious in his body language. But the thing that kept coming back, prodding his mind in a teasing way, was _why?_ Why was he here? And, more importantly… _What does he want?_

 

It felt like an eternity. Trying to get his heart to slow down. Trying to stay against the wall without barging in. He saw his silhouette through the door before he opened it. Feeling his heart flatline in an instant. As he emerged, with damp hair and slightly rosy cheeks, he couldn’t produce a sound.

 

They looked at each other. _Really_ looked into one another’s eyes. The electricity that they shared, that they both knew, coursed through him. It made his heart beat again, giving it a much needed kick-start. How is it that someone he barely knew, apart from carefully constructed public image, could make him feel this way?

 

He came closer. Instantly, he had to bite back the impulse to run. A warm, gentle touch to his cheek calmed him. “Yuuri,” he said again. That voice was softer than he’d ever heard it before, but that was _his_ voice. That was _him._

 

“Hi,” he nearly choked on the response. He wanted to touch him too, touch him like that time they only had eyes for each other. Out on the open street, outside that ramen shop. He said the first thing that came to his mind once he cleared a little of the fog that had developed in his thoughts. “Hungry? B-Breakfast is almost ready…”

* * *

 

They said nothing, initially. Shared nothing other than each other’s company and furtive looks. He couldn’t stand it. Travelling and seeing him, only to end up with nothing but an awkward feeling? No. He didn’t want that. That’s not why he came.

 

“Yuuri?” It was almost as his voice made him flinch. “I… I was a bit apprehensive coming here. Nervous, even. I just wanted you to know that seeing you, well, it… made all of that disappear.”

 

Those brown eyes, the ones he’s been summoning when he’d been looking into a pair of green ones instead, found his. Grounded him. Made him even more confident in his resolve. He was meant to be here. Right now, in this very moment.

 

“Are you finished?”

 

He had longed for that question. Hoping for it to come earlier than it actually did.

 

“Yes. I am.” _I am, but, at the same time… I’m just getting started._

 

His plate was taken away. He gave the family a courteous nod, a slightly nervous smile. Surely, they knew very well why he was here. He couldn’t make himself believe anything else. He wondered what they thought of him, what they thought of their son and brother. If he, in their eyes, was the same as him?

 

“Um… Victor? Will you join me? We can… talk?”

 

He snapped out of his inner ramblings. “Yes. Of course.”

 

He followed him out of the dining area, past the entrance of the inn and walked up a flight of stairs.

 

“My room’s over here, so… we’ll be alone.”

 

His hand was so close. Was it finally accepted to touch him? To touch him without any repercussions at all? He wasn’t sure, but he decided to try. It couldn’t be anything like what had happened before, could it? He found he wasn’t nervous at all, without the gold band to hold him back.

 

Just a small touch. The electricity. Yes, that feeling that he’d been so sure that he never would experience again claimed him. He felt that tug, that invisible force that just wanted to keep him as close to him as he possibly could. It made him bold, lacing together a finger or two with his.

 

It made him stop. Turn around. Look at him. He wasn’t angry, that was obvious. His eyes conveyed something else. A… longing. A sense of belonging. But as soon as he registered it, those feelings were gone. Changed.

 

“Stay. You just have to stay here, right here. Give me a minute.”

 

He felt his fingers leave his as he went over and opened a door, being quick to enter the room and close the door behind him. _What was that just now? Did I do something wrong?_

 

The last thing he wanted to do was invade Yuuri’s space, and the want to protect his privacy even outlasted his curiosity... for about five seconds. His hand touched the knob of the door with apprehension, opening it as quietly as he could manage.

 

What he saw made a lot of things click into place. He was scrambling, taking posters down off the walls. He’s a fan. Maybe his biggest fan. It was the cutest and most endearing thing he’d ever seen.

 

But the words from that night rang in his ears like a whisper. _When I used to…_

 

Yes, many, many things clicked into place. The warmth he felt in his chest expanded, and he couldn’t wait for him to be done so they could just _talk._


	6. “Every scene was a sign/We made-out through their meaning”

He had invited him in. Asked him to sit on his bed while he sat down on the chair in front of his desk. The small distance that divided them felt like a chasm. He felt awkward. _He’s really here. Really._

 

A lot of thoughts were storming through his head. What to say? Where to start? And, more importantly, where would all of this end? Somehow, he felt several feelings at once. Anticipation. Agitation. Fear. And… disgust. He suddenly knew what he wanted to address first.

 

“I… um…” He’d seen that hand of his. It wasn’t carrying the mark of a married man. Not anymore. “Your… wife? Is that… over?”

 

It was like his neck cracked like a whip, those blue eyes staring at him with a stern look.

 

“Yes. It’s over.”

 

“But I read that you’re…” He was interrupted.

 

“I’m going to be the best father I can possibly be.” The tone of his voice told him that this was forbidden territory. He left the subject without a second thought.

 

He had to study him a bit. Even though that subject was off limits, he couldn’t help but wonder. He sounded really… sincere. Like he really meant it. It dawned on him that his worst fear had just been confirmed. His actions had broken them up. His actions would leave a child without the immediate access to both of its parents. _What did I do?_

 

“Victor, I… need to get this off my chest. I just can’t leave it unsaid.”

 

They looked at each other again. His eyes were softer now. His whole demeanor was.

 

“I can’t shake the feeling that I… made all that happen. You know?” He was suddenly keenly aware of the bruise on Victor’s face. Had a good idea why it was there. He knew, or at least had heard, what Russia was like.

 

“You never were responsible for this. Any of this. I brought it upon myself. Don’t… just don’t think about it.”

 

A silence came over them. Yuuri still couldn’t get rid of that gnawing sensation. Victor looked… at ease, though.

 

He decided to resume. He felt a bit more confident seeing that change in him. “You say that, but… the kiss. It was my fault, too.”

 

A sudden smile seemed to have shadowed his lips as he sat there on the bed. He couldn’t really make out what it meant, suddenly feeling a whole less confident again.

 

“You didn’t enjoy it?”

 

He suddenly felt his cheeks ignite. _Well… say something!_ He had to disengage his eyes from him, look somewhere else. Trying to get his thoughts and emotions in line. Trying to urge himself to push forward.

 

Still looking away, looking at anything and everything other than him, he continued. “I just… wanted to know what it meant. To you, I mean.”

 

He pondered, it seemed. He put one finger up to his lips and again, that smile appeared.

 

“Yuuri…”

 

His voice made him glance. He didn’t dare look.

 

“What do you think it meant? To me.”

 

“I… I would like to think that it meant… something?” _I… I’m burning up! What is this?_

 

He was answered with a chuckle. “Well… if we can leave the consequences aside, I could tell you what it meant. If you’d like.”

 

He nodded, his eyes firmly fixed to the floor. His heart was racing. He knew what that kiss had meant. At least to him. His whole body was replaying that moment in a seemingly endless loop. How it had felt. How it tasted. How it sounded. His mind and body took him back to when he reciprocated. He suddenly felt weak at the knees.

 

Due to the murmur his blood made when it pulsated through him, through his ears, he saw him standing close to him even before he heard him move. He felt terrified to raise his head. Those thoughts and feelings, having someone unattainable being so close that you could smell him, had that effect on him.

 

His head was coaxed upwards. To meet his eyes. He couldn’t keep his still for long, they wandered off right away. He swallowed, reflexively. He was leaning in. He was close. So close. Too close.

 

“So…” He cooed against his lips. “What it meant, that’s what you asked?” It was really distracting feeling his lips brush against his with every word. “It meant… everything.”

 

He pulled back, just a little. Feeling those soft caresses prevented him from thinking straight. And that had been quite… problematic. At least before. He wanted to gather his thoughts. Come down. Get his feet back on solid ground.

 

“Oh…” It was all he could think of. Hearing that answer, together with those soft harbingers of passion stringing him along, made something else awaken. A revelation of sorts. _He wanted that. He wanted me._

* * *

 

They spent weeks like that, getting to know one another. Victor being forward, Yuuri showing restraint. He’d learned his lesson from before, he guarded himself. Not letting his emotions play him like before. Making sure that nothing could go wrong if he let himself go.

 

Eventually, even Yuuri’s family grew accustomed to having Victor around. Even though the language barrier was a problem, they found him pleasant. Seeing how he made Yuuri feel, how he opened up, made them forget their previous indiscretion.

 

After a couple of days, Yuuri took him with him to see the sights. Showed him the town that had forged him into the person he was. One big part of this was the rink, Ice Castle, where they would skate. Enjoying the ice together, just the two of them.

 

Yuuri loved seeing him skate. It was poetry in motion. How that tall frame could move with such ease made him puzzled. He loved feeling his hands on him when he was illustrating moves and poses, relishing every little bit of contact. He was hard to please. Yuuri could understand why he had gotten to where he was. Being so pristine and impeccable. Paying attention to every single detail. Trying again and again until it looked right. Felt right.

 

He wondered, briefly, what it would be like to be coached by him. Would have been like. Thoughts like that slipped in and out of his mind, coaxed there by Victor and his closeness.

 

Today was one of those days, a day with Victor at Ice Castle. It felt more like a coaching session than normal, and the words slipped out after he failed another jump.

 

“Coach, I think I’m done for the day.” It took a split second before he caught himself, but the damage was done, the words had already left him. Blushing slightly, he looked over to see his reaction.

 

He thought maybe Victor would have been offended somehow, but instead he put his finger to his lips and smiled, like he sometimes did. “Yuuri, I thought you’d never ask!”

 

“I didn’t ask anything!” He groaned in reply, partly because he was so tired and the rest because of Victor’s excitement.

 

“But the things I could teach you!” He couldn’t escape the arms that wrapped around him if he had wanted to… and he didn’t.

 

After that, Victor started acting even more like a coach. It was off season, but he was being run ragged due to the weight he had gained since he quit the season prior. No one asked him if he wanted to compete again, and it didn’t seem to matter. Yuuri thought often of how this must be a dream. He never once let himself fully believe this was his new reality. Having access to him like that. It was something he definitely could get used to.

* * *

 

It had happened a few times over the days Victor had been here. They’d fallen asleep in the same room, and even in the same bed a few times. They’d talk for hours, about nothing and everything, and let sleep take them naturally. Whether they were exhausted from practice or from the warm water of the hot spring, it didn’t matter.

 

Tonight was the first night he’d fallen asleep in his arms, though. He’d woken up at some point, in the middle of the night. Only to have that greeting him. Moonlight from the windows kissing Victor’s beautiful sleeping face, the halo of his silver hair. His warm arms around him. His heart was beating out of his chest, but he was more relaxed than he’d even been.

 

_I think I want to..._

 

More than that, though, he felt that pull, that jolt. He surprised himself, moving a little closer, nuzzling into Victor’s chest. He looked up, taking in the softness of his sleeping face again. He did it before he thought about it, before he could stop myself.

 

_I’m going to._

 

The taste of his lips was magical.

* * *

 

The feeling woke him up. It was soft. Repetitive. Concentrated to his lips and lips alone. Before he opened his eyes, he thought about remaining still. Not springing into action. But he couldn’t make himself stay immobile. He ignited. Drowned in that rush he had been chasing for so long, the rush he thought he was going to have to live without.

 

And so, he opened his eyes. Saw him, having his closed. Nothing else could ever have the same impact on him, of this he was certain.

 

Even though everything within him screamed for him to get in control, to show him where he wanted it to go, he kept his cool. He started adding pressure, as his lips fell onto his. It was savored. Welcomed. He decided to see where it would end, without being too gluttonous.

 

A small touch, on his jaw. It had no effect at all. It didn’t scare him off, nor made anything intensify. As he put his hand around the back of his neck, he heard a small moan. A wondrous sound, telling him to push. Just a little bit more.

 

He put his hand underneath his t-shirt, felt his sides. Slowly letting his fingers cross over to his back. He felt the kiss intensify, he felt honored when pressure was added. Gripping the hem of the t-shirt made them separate. Made him feel like they indeed were going somewhere. It was as if his playmate was very intuitive, easing out of the garment without a second thought.

 

He sat up, found his mouth again. Felt his hands on him this time. He didn’t need the persuasion. He was quick to unbutton some of the buttons of his shirt, and pulled it over his head. Constantly seeking that fuel his lips topped him up with.

 

“Lie down.” He tried to keep his voice low. Tried to keep it as undemanding as he possibly could. And he did, he reclined. Appeared before him, almost in the same way as he did that night.

 

“Is it okay?” He had his hands on his hips, asking him for permission to… add something to that flame.

 

Their eyes met. He looked flushed. Slightly insecure, but ridiculously turned on.

 

He had to ask him again. “Okay?”

 

The nod he was rewarded with made him explode. He fell into him, lapping him up with everything he had. He put his knee between his legs, making him shift. Making him push and meet his mouth with even greater intensity.

 

He had to say something. Say something so that he knew what he was doing to him. “It feels so much better than before. I can’t wait to have you, again.”

* * *

 

The words hit hard enough to chase away the haze he’d fallen into, the delicious trance that only Victor had ever put him in.

 

He felt his stomach clench, immediately using his feet to his chest to push him away. “Again?”

 

Victor’s expression changed as quickly as his did. He seemed confused, hurt. Hurt that he pushed him away. But then the expression changed, changed to understanding. Suddenly, he looked disgusted. _With me? With himself? What’s...going on? What did he mean?_

 

Yuuri reflexively grabbed a pillow, covering himself as Victor changed his position to sit next to him on the bed. As he moved, Victor’s body language got more and more stiff, guarded.

 

He looked at him, despair being the only word that came across in his eyes. His brows furrowed. “You do remember, don’t you?” The sound of a voice that fought with fear.

 

“R-remember what? We’ve only...kissed before. But that’s not what you meant?”

 

Victor grabbed his hand, gently, and looked straight into his eyes. As if it would help him remember. “Yuuri, the banquet. How much do you remember from that night?”

 

“I only remember I drank a lot, and w...” _Sore. I was sore the next day. We… No, he..._

 

Victor’s expression hadn’t changed, desperation written all over his face.

 

Everything clicked. Yuuri put the puzzle pieces of that night together. “Victor, I was told I danced that night. I really don’t remember anything else. What happened?” Anger started to color his voice.

 

Victor let go of his hand, accepting how dire the situation was, looking away from Yuuri.  

 

“Yuuri, I didn’t know. You have to believe me.”

 

“That I was drunk? That I was out of my head with grief over placing last? You knew all of those things.”

 

“Yuuri, I-”

 

“Say it, Victor. So I know.”

 

A deep, trembling sigh. “I made love to you, Yuuri.”

 

“You f-forced yourself on me.” Yuuri himself had never heard his voice sound quite like this. There were tears in his eyes not yet falling, just pooling up, and he wasn’t sure if they were from anger or sadness.

 

He felt Victor reach out to touch him, preemptively. This made him jerk away, like a cat from water. He retreated into himself, distancing himself as much as he could while staying on the bed. Clutched the pillow so close to himself his knuckles were white, using it like a shield. Moved his knees to his chest.

 

“You’ve been using me, this whole time?”

 

“No! It’s not like that I-”

 

He could tell that Victor was frantic. Could tell he was trying. But he wasn’t sure why.

 

“You could have had anyone, yet you decided to do that to me?”

 

“Please stop saying that-”

 

“No. It’s what you did. You...”

 

Victor was defeated. He didn’t know how to fix this situation. He didn’t know if he could.

 

“What can I do to make this … better? To at least calm you down?”

 

“Nothing,” he said as he pulled even further into himself. He didn’t want him to see the tears really start to fall, but he couldn’t hold them back anymore. How could he let himself believe this was real? Even for a moment?

 

“You raped me,” he said, his voice low with anger. “How can you make that ‘better’?” He threw the pillow he’d been clutching at him, unable to do anything else. He was sobbing now, face in his hands, unable to control his emotions.

 

Victor looked away, understanding. The gravity of that word hit him, and it felt like his lungs lost all their air. Whatever trust there was before, it was gone now. Victor knew this.

 

Yuuri had only just begun to break down the walls around his heart. Now maybe no one ever could.

  
Victor’s mistake, his one night that meant everything, took everything away.


	7. epilogue  - G.I.N.A.S.F.S.

He fidgeted a little with the cuff of his jacket, the seat belt. It was a strange feeling, meeting him again. It’s been, what? Two years? Yes, two years since they last spent quality time together. That summer had been hot and miserable. The Audi moved like a snake on the wet road, warm and quiet inside. The silence was deafening.

 

“So… How’s your mother?”

 

He flinched. It felt really strange hearing his voice after such a long time apart. Talking about his mother around him was also rather awkward. He knew they didn’t see eye to eye. They never had, for some reason.

 

“She… She’s fine, Dad.” He answered honestly.

 

“Good. I’m glad.”

 

“So… I’m really happy that she decided that it was okay for you to come.” A sincere smile. “Have you been enjoying yourself?”

 

“Actually, yeah. The camp was great. I made a lot of friends and… I even liked the instructors.”

 

He could hear a little huff. Apparently, he’d said something funny. He felt his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it a little.

 

“I’ve missed you, Valentin. I’m sorry that it’s been so long since I last saw you. I really want to make it up to you, somehow.”

 

“Dad, it’s okay. I know that you’re busy.” It really was. Having his father on the other side of the world had been tough, but Valentin had known nothing else his entire life. Victor had always lived in the United States.

 

A silence spread out between them again. This time, it wasn’t as uncomfortable. They had broken the ice. He wasn’t fidgeting anymore.

 

He glanced at his father. He was always so well put together. Intimidating almost, with his suit and tie and cool exterior. Once you got past that, he was the warmest person he possibly knew.

 

There was something he wanted to talk to his father about. Something that he’d been mulling over for a very long time. Something that caused butterflies in his stomach to flap their wings. The same butterflies he had when he saw… “Dad?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“You know, there was this one instructor there. Always so sad.” Approaching the subject gently, like this. That could work.

 

“Really?”

 

“Uh-huh. But I saw something change after you two talked.”

 

His father gave him a look. A look that was probably too long if you’re supposed to handle a vehicle properly, especially on a rain-drenched road. His eyes went back studying the road after a while, seemingly lost in thought.

* * *

 

The GPS told him that he had arrived at his destination. He removed his sunglasses, as he maneuvered the car. Heavy rain clouds loomed in the distance, threatening to cover the city with their contents. He put his turn signal on, and waited for the light to switch.

 

Finding a parking spot wasn’t easy. All the children's parents were there to collect their young, budding stars. Once he managed to find a spot, awfully close to an enormous pickup truck, he walked inside.

 

It was a nice atmosphere, he thought. Seeing the families meet up after two weeks without being together was endearing. All of the smiles and tears were, too.

 

His eyes instantly scanned the rink. He looked for a boy with silver hair. He saw him doing some spin variations, keeping his distance from a group of smaller children who were doing basic figures a few paces away.

 

“Val! Valentin!”

 

A gorgeous, smooth exit as soon as he heard his name being called. _I never thought I’d say it, but he got that from me._

 

He’d grown. Both in height and development. Suddenly, he hated himself for being absent for those two years. He really missed him. He’d missed a lot of things.

 

“Dad! Hi, you’re early.” Those bright green eyes met his.

 

“Oh, really? Sorry, this is the time I got from your mother. So, ready to go?”

 

“No, not just yet, if that’s okay.”

 

“You do what you have to. You’re here to learn, aren’t you? Go.” He patted him on the small of his back as he turned around.

 

He took off in an instant. He reminded him of himself when he was his age. Eager. Talented and full of artistic expression. _Considering everything that happened, I did good. I really did._

 

“Mr. Nikiforov?” A voice sounded from behind.

 

He turned around. A hand was extended. It belonged to a dark haired, brown-eyed man. It struck him that he once knew such a person. The associations made him absent-minded for a couple of seconds.

 

“Yes, that’s me. Hello.”

 

“I just want to say that it’s a pleasure meeting you. I’m not the only one who’s a little star struck today, I’m sure.” They shared a handshake.

 

“You’re way too kind. Thank you.” It had been quite some time since he got off the ice and stopped skating competitively, but he had made his mark in history. Due to a lot of things. “So… anything that Val needs to practise specifically, you think?”

 

“I’m not sure… he’s not my student, so I’m not really in a position to say. I can grab his instructor for you, if you’d like to talk it over with him.”

 

“That would be great. Thank you.”

 

“Great. Give me a second, I’ll get him for you.”

 

He watched the instructor walk along the boards of the rink. His eyes went back to watching his son, doing some single loops and flips. He had decided early on that he wouldn’t be teaching his own son, he doubted that their relationship would benefit from his tough love.

 

“He’ll be right with you, he’s finishing up over there. Have a nice day, Mr. Nikiforov.”

 

“Thank you. You too.”

 

He shot a glance across the ice. Saw a huddle of younger children being dispersed as the instructor stood up and patted some of them on the head. As he turned around, he knew. He’d known such a person before. He’d known _him._

 

They stood and watched each other. This had happened before. Blue mirrors of the soul meeting brown. Something within him started to stir. This had also happened before. Suddenly, he felt it. The lost feeling of electricity and magnetism, coursing through him yet again. It had been too long. He thought that it was all forgotten, those sensations and the warmth that came afterwards. But they came at him, like a tidal wave.

 

He came closer. Hesitantly at first. Then, he picked up pace. Covered more of the distance between them with every touch of his skates against the ice. The speed mellowed out and he came to a stop. Not even an arm’s length away.

 

There were a lot of things that had been left unsaid, but in that moment, they couldn’t make themselves find those words. Access the feelings that came with them. It felt like they had met for the first time, drawn together by a force they couldn’t resist. But still, there was something making them respect each other. Respect each other’s space.

 

“Hi.” He couldn’t keep his voice steady. It quivered. It infected him, his entire body. His inner being shook.

 

“Hi.” His voice was shaky, too.

 

Their eyes did the talking, when they couldn’t.

 

After a while, he spoke. “So… that’s your son? I didn’t recognise the surname.”

 

“It’s hers. She took her maiden name back.”

 

“Oh…”

 

His hand was so close, gripping the board. A thousand thoughts went through his mind, he could feel warmth radiating from him, from that hand. Making him intoxicated, like so many times before. He… touched him, just a little with one finger. Giving the back of his hand an almost invisible caress.

 

Their eyes got caught up with each other. It was as if they were mirrors. Conveying the same thoughts, the same emotions. It was like seeing yourself and understanding yourself in a totally different light. Like they suddenly could map out everything that had passed until they reached this moment in time. Just by a look alone.

 

“You know, I’m…”

 

“Don’t. Don’t say you’re sorry. It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

 

He sighed. He was right. It didn’t matter. It had ceased to matter a long time ago.

 

“About my son, then.”

 

“Yes.” He paused. Looked over his shoulder where a silver haired boy tried to feel his way into motion. “He’s just like you, you know?”

 

“I see that too.”

 

“He’s a wonderful kid. Very considerate. Imagine that.”

 

“Yeah. Imagine that.”

 

“Anyway… He needs to practice his jumps. He dips his shoulder too much, he just can’t get the rotation right. That’s all. He’s a natural. He’ll go places if his motivation stays.”

 

His words they… hurt. For some reason, they cut straight through him. It was like the conversation was about them, and not a fifteen year old boy. Or maybe he wanted it to be.

 

His hand left the board to stroke the back his hair before it rested against his cheek. Oh, how he had missed this. He let himself stay like that for several beats, relishing in the small touch. Relishing in the eye contact. Letting the fire in him glow, for just a moment. So close to saying words he knew he shouldn’t.

 

But the feeling belonged to another time. Another lifetime. Another universe even. He gave his palm a small kiss, before he backed off. Called out to his son again.

 

“Valentin! Come! We’re going!”

 

The boy was quick to step off the ice. He smiled and extended his hand. “Thank you, coach Katsuki. I’ve learned a lot.”

 

As his son came to his side, he put his arm around him. He needed comfort, closeness. That comfort, that closeness he felt afraid to seek from someone else, no matter how much he wanted to. With a look, he walked out. Steeled himself so that he wouldn’t break. So that he wouldn’t turn around.

* * *

 

As he watched him exit, keeping his boy close, his mind wandered. Wandered to a few moments before.

 

_“Val! Valentin!”_

 

He could recognise that voice anywhere. It was embedded within him. The pitch, the tone. The actual sound of the words being spoken. He’d known right away who it was. Made an immediate connection to why he was speaking.

 

He felt overwhelmed. How he had taken off, taken off to meet him where he stood. How they had shared looks. A furtive touch and… how he had felt him. Made sure that it really was him standing there in front of him. When he’d touched his hair, it had felt like coming out of some impenetrable darkness. When his hand, almost by its own accord, had touched his cheek he felt the wrongdoings of the past melt away. And when those lips of his made contact he… wanted to expire. After tasting them.

 

And now, he was gone. He’d left with what his life was all about now, or so he could only imagine. He could only hope that he finally had found peace.

* * *

 

His thoughts returned to the present, returned to the car ride with his son. _What changed?_ He wanted to ask, but he knew the answer. He decided to give an explanation instead. “We used to compete against one another, many years ago.” There was a lot left unsaid in that sentence, but it wasn’t a lie.

 

“Dad, I...” He’d never seen his son look this anxious before. “I asked, because there’s something I need to talk to you about. Something I can’t tell mom.” The younger of the two took a quick sip from his water bottle, to steady himself.

 

Worry flooded over him. He followed his gut instinct and grabbed his son’s hand with the one that wasn’t on the steering wheel. “Whatever it is, I’m here. Just tell me.”

 

His son gripped his hand tight. “I’ve been...There’s a friend back home that I’ve known for a really long time. Before I left, I...” He was struggling to find the words. It didn’t help that his father still intimidated him. His grip tightened further. “I told my best friend I loved _him_. Because I do.”

 

And all the worry left Victor in an instant. Without a second thought, he pulled the car over as quickly as he could.

 

“Dad?” Fear ate at him. His stomach was in his throat. Was rejection coming? He wasn’t ready for it.

 

He took the keys out of the ignition. _Shit._ He dropped them on the floorboard of the car. It didn’t matter.

 

“Come. Come here.” He extended out his arms, pulled his son close. Held him with as much force as he could muster. He felt his son’s heart beat violently against his chest. _There’s no need._ “You know what? Thank you. Thank you so much for telling me. I…” He swallowed, trying to not make it awkward since the situation was so delicate. “I’m so proud of you. I’m so, so proud of you. My lovely son.”

  
_Thank you for being everything that I couldn’t be. I hope you can keep your once in a lifetime.  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (TenchiKai)  
> Where to begin? I think I should start by explaining myself. I believe that when you force an animal into a corner, the animal reacts. Victor was forced into a corner. He made several mistakes. Mistakes he couldn’t run from, or ignore. He is human. He is not perfect.
> 
> Irena was mistake number one. He thought he could make himself fit a mold. If he could pretend enough, maybe he wouldn’t have to pretend anymore. That’s not how it works. Yuuri was like giving an alcoholic a beer. Of course he relapsed. Again. And. Again. And that was mistake number two. Giving into temptation.
> 
> I wanted to make a point with this story; have had this story floating my brain and in my heart since I finished Yuri on Ice. I think (I hope) my point came across. Give everyone a giant hug for me. Tell everyone you love them. The color of your skin, your sexual orientation, your creed...none of that matters. Love is universal, love is the really answer. Always.
> 
> Working with phisen has been a real dream come true. She was amazing to work with, and gave me confidence in my own writing again. I had a lot of laughs and tears with her. Listen, lady, you always have a beta right here if you need one.
> 
> Speaking of which, dear reader, if you want more hurt so good, maybe check out all of her wonderful stories. 
> 
> I also wanted to mention that I don’t want this universe to end here. I have ideas. I’d love to explore Val’s story. Who is his best friend, anyway?
> 
> Also, a gentle reminder: I like to think that, in any (and every) universe, Victor and Yuuri are soulmates. In our little story, Victor and Yuuri know where each other are now. Just because they said goodbye for now, doesn’t mean they said goodbye forever. Seemed to me like Yuuri wanted to try, to me.
> 
>  
> 
> (phisen)  
> This was a fun project. Tenchi and I got working on this after she had been taken by another angsty piece of mine. We started talking, one thing led to another, and we started throwing ideas around. The end result is this. And before I go off, thank you so much for the lovely comments, reactions and everything else. We were loving every single second of it.
> 
> Being comfortable in your own skin is a human right. Being able to love and be loved, no matter what packaging or content, is too. Judging is easy, accepting is not. That is what I think this story is about, at least in my mind. Love can never be a bad thing. Nor can the deeds that spring from a love that isn’t forced, hidden or chastised ever be bad.
> 
> However, motivations can be just as complex as emotions. Why we do things, based on what we feel. That is also a subject this story tries to convey, I think. Sometimes, we do irrational things. Based on fear, hate, love, insecurities and everything in between. Maybe all we can do is to explore the explanations as to why, and try to push away the instinct of judging, making excuses.
> 
> As far as the story goes, it’s being handed over to Tenchi with warm hands, now that it’s done. I may be the one who wrote it for the most part, trying to form her thoughts and feelings into words, but this story is hers. Wholeheartedly hers.
> 
> The story itself is just a byproduct of a great experience. I’ve seen a person, hesitant and not trusting her own words and abilities, bloom. She has gone from not being confident enough to put her fingers to the keys and just feeding me fluttering ideas to writing more and more and doing it like she’s never done anything else! Determined making her thoughts stick. Making them palpable to you readers. She has gone from being afraid of the harder, tougher emotions to actually enjoying them, exploring them. She has made a journey too. Just like Victor. Just like Yuuri.
> 
> I implore everyone who writes, for fun or otherwise, to team up. Just for a little while. It’ll make you explore things, it’ll make you learn. Learn things about yourself and others that will be surprising.
> 
> Onwards, new journeys await! xoxo


	8. Fan Addition: Sense and Sensibility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (tenchikai)
> 
> My co-author and I wanted to give a special shout-out to [rogovich](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rogovich/pseuds/rogovich). She took the time to "fix" our story in the comments section, so we took her (with permission!) comments, edited them a bit, and are letting you guys feast on them with your eyes! Enjoy...good guy Victor!

He was taken by surprise. He felt a hand on the back of his head, fingers digging in, pulling him closer. He didn’t put up a fight. He surrendered. As he felt his lips on his, he knew. He knew that he’d been allowed to come home. Find solace. Find shelter in a storm that had continued for way too long.

 

It was too short. He wanted more. Everything. Yes, everything that his mouth could ever offer.

 

"Your face is so pretty,” he paused for a moment, his head turned away. He bite his bottom lip, and his face became flushed. “This is better than when I used to...touch myself… thinking of you."

 

Hearing those words made him forget that mouth. The pent-up need took over, leaving him with nothing. Nothing that resembled coherence. He became a drunk man himself, just as drunk as the enticing creature next to him. He had enough. And yet, he wanted more. More to sate that drunken desire that clawed its way out of him, taking over him.

* * *

He maneuvered his head away and leapt to his feet. He wanted more, he wanted everything. But he was so drunk that it felt wrong, so wrong. And at the same moment so right. He looked at the body on the bed, his breath was becoming steady once again. He caressed the strands of black hair from his face, hand lingering a bit more than appropriate. Less that he wanted to. He backed to the door, opened it and left before it was too late. Before reason left him.

 

In the hall he pressed his back to the door, his whole body trembling. He heard the lock click but he still tried the handle. Closed. He slid on the floor. Three centimeters of plywood were separating him from the alluring being that captured his entire soul. Who made him want to shed all these lies he built through years, to let him be who he is.

 

He was shaking. He opened his eyes, steadying himself as something caught his attention in the dim light of the hotel hall, just a slight gleam. The sight of it made him feel strangled. He opened his mouth and removed it with his teeth and spat it with disgust. Instantly, it became easier to breathe. With a soft ‘cling’ it stopped somewhere down the corridor.

 

“Victor, what are you doing here?”

 

A palm on his shoulder. He looked up. _How long was I here?_ Green eyes and blond hair, the view made his stomach clench.

 

“I am fine, Chris, thank you.”

 

He looked away from the questioning eyes, but took the offered hand to get back on his feet. Chris’s tie was still missing and he carried his jacket in hand.

 

“I thought you were on the 6th floor?”

 

“Yes. Yes, I am. Thank you. I should go, get some sleep before the flight.”

 

He moved from his spot, walked towards the elevator not looking back. Physically feeling every step that separated him from room 403.

 

“Victor!”

 

He flinched, but turned around.

 

“Is it yours?”

 

Cold metal touched his palm.

 

“Ah. Yes, Chris. Thank you.” He put the ring in his pocket. It felt like it burnt through the fabric.

* * *

 

“Victor? Is that you?”

 

The sound of naked feet, running against the floor. A warm smile, a hot embrace… a scorching kiss. He stopped her halfway, put his hands on her arms.

 

“Irena, we need to talk.”

 

The joy in her eyes was washed away with a puzzlement.

 

“I am sorry. I can’t do it anymore.”

 

She got quiet, her gaze went blank. He was silent.

 

“Victor, I do not understand. Is this a joke? Is this a…”

 

“Irena, I am sorry.”

 

He did not move, giving her time to react. Her eyes became glassy.

 

“Did you… did you meet someone?”

 

“Yes”. _Yes and no. It is not the point._

 

The tears rolled down her cheeks. He really felt sorry for her.

 

She stammered. “Did you… Did you sleep with her?”

 

“It is…” _Just say it, say the goddamn truth once in your life._ “It is ‘he’. Not ‘her’. And no, I did not.”

 

The puzzlement in her eyes changed with rage. Surprisingly, he felt… relieved? At least he deserved it. Her rage.

 

“Victor, it is not fucking funny. Some faggot just hit on you and you are telling me that… What is wrong with you?!”

 

She broke their contact and stepped back, eyes full with disbelief. And… disgust? He understood. He totally could relate.

 

“The only reason I didn’t...was because he was too drunk at the time.”

 

“I don’t want to hear it, I just do NOT want to hear it…” Her breathing became heavy, she put a hand on the kitchen island to support herself. He just noticed the table. The two plates, ready to be filled with hearty love. He really felt sorry for her.

 

“But I’m telling you the truth, for once.” He approached the table and she instantly backed to the window like he was contagious. She was not looking at him.

 

“We have been married for two years, we… you… with me”

 

“Irena, I’ll say it again. I’m telling you the truth...and this is who I am.”

 

She was shaking. He saw that anger consumed her.

 

“WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU SAYING? WE FUCKED! WE STILL DO! YOU SAID YOU LOVED ME. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

 

“I am sorry for dragging you into this, for lying to you. But you should know... I’ve never enjoyed it. Not like I wish I could.”

 

“FUCK YOU, VICTOR! LEAVE, PLEASE LEAVE AND GO FUCK YOUR FAGGOT.”

 

He sighed. Surprisingly, he did not feel stressed. He was annoyed, yes, but not because she was mad, but because she was dragging _him_ into this. For the first time in a long while he felt content. And free.

 

“I will. But I do not think that he will have me while I have… this.”

 

He put this palm on the island’s surface and turned around. The door’s lock clicked behind him. She brought her arm to her mouth and started to sob uncontrollably.

 

The ring gleamed against the dark surface in the light of the afternoon sun.

* * *

 

He never contacted him. He was frustrated, a bit heartbroken. But he never questioned his decision. The thought of looking into those green eyes searching for brown ones made him sick.

 

The training consumed almost all his time. Occasionally, in the night he would touch himself, thinking of the slender body and dazzling smile, about his hand on his thigh. About his lips. About everything that did not happen. He felt lonely, but for the first time in his life he did not felt guilty.

 

When his lawyer brought him divorce papers, he signed them without thinking. He still did not feel guilty. Just a bit sorry.

* * *

 

 

She never asked him about who he was. She still had trouble believing that this was happening in the first place. A few months was not enough for someone to accept a divorce. For the first time in three years she did not watch the Russian nationals, she did not watch the Europeans. The thought of him made her dizzy.

 

A couple days after the Worlds, her social media exploded. She still had connections to other figure skaters, ones she met at the banquets and other official meetings. Everyone was sharing a YouTube link with Victor’s name in the headline. Her stomach cramped but she still opened it. She sighed with relief, when she saw that it was not him but some other skater who performed Nikiforov’s routine. However, when the camera was close enough to get his face and that look of his, something died inside her.

 

“Victor Nikiforov is taking season off to coach Yuuri Katsuki of Japan”.

 

It took her three full days to stop the tears.


End file.
